


Through the Wood

by Buttercupbadass



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Christmas tree fun, Cold, F/M, Snow, novelty boxers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 13:28:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16995885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttercupbadass/pseuds/Buttercupbadass
Summary: When Katniss’ husband suggested they cut down their own tree, she knew it would be an adventure.  Life with her Christmas tradition loving husband always is and she wouldn’t have it any other way.





	Through the Wood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hutchabelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hutchabelle/gifts).



> For hutachabelle from your Secret Santa! I wish you a very Merry Christmas.

I can’t complain really. I knew it when I married him. I knew it when we first moved in together, back in college. Hell, I knew it when we had our first date at 16. My husband, Peeta Mellark, is an all out crazy, all things Christmas tradition loving freak. Couple that with his perfectionism and you have the reason we are on the road this cold morning. If you ask him, he will debate the perfectionist descriptor. He prefers to say that he likes things to be “Just Right”. And that differs from perfectionism how? But I digress.

My husband has us on the road in the snow in his brand new Range Rover - a car so ridiculously expensive that it cost more than both our combined salaries from two years ago - heading to a Christmas tree farm to find the “Just Right” tree for our new home. We are on the hunt for a well shaped fraser fir with just the right height for our ceilings and just the right amount of branches for his grandmother’s heirloom ornaments. There must be no bald spots, no brown needles and an overall “good feel” about it. It must be cut fresh so it will fill our house with aromatic evergreen scents that will last until the new year without turning into a fire hazard. I can hardly believe that any such tree as “just right” as this dare exist outside of fantasy, but Peeta has no doubt. “We’ll find it here.”

I had tried to argue “Why don’t we head to the Home Depot - look they have 10-12 foot trees on sale.”

“Those trees were probably cut in July,” came the response. I should have known better.

Course, it’s not all bad when your sweet husband (who is looking particularly yummy today) wants to spend a Saturday alone with you in a ‘winter wonderland’ - his words. Besides, he filled my belly with delicious waffles before we left. It’s cold outside but I have a heated seat in a luxury automobile. Nope I have no reason to complain.

I think it’s safe to say we are in the middle of nowhere right now. We have passed two Christmas tree farms just off the highway. Both were done up with lights and Santa’s village decorations. One boasted a horse drawn sleigh ride out to the trees, but Peeta keeps driving. When our GPS tells us we have 12 more miles to go, He pulls off at a gas station.

“You might want to use the bathroom. I’m not sure what facilities there will be when we get there.”

“Where are we going, Peeta?”

“It’s a private farm, they only sell to so many people each year. The trees are supposed to be exceptional.”

“It’s a tree Peeta, all trees grow the same.”

“Just go pee, Katniss. We are almost there.”

He’s a little annoyed with me, I can tell. I also know the reason he’s getting annoyed with me is that he’s asking himself the same questions I’m asking and can’t come up with good enough answers.

When I return to the car, Peeta is checking the GPS again. 

“I brought sandwiches. They’re in the backpack. I thought we could have a picnic but it’s gotten so cold maybe we should eat now.”

I will never refuse food prepared by my husband. No one in their right mind should ever refuse food prepared by my husband especially when it’s the last of our turkey leftovers. The sandwiches are delicious but it only gets better when he leans over to lick cranberry sauce off my cheek and give me a kiss. Nope not so bad.

As we get back on the road my spirits are bolstered. We will find the perfect tree only a couple more miles to go.

::Your destination is on the right::

Peeta brings the car to a dead stop in the middle of the road. Normally, this would be dangerous but we haven’t seen another car since leaving the gas station.

“Where?” Peeta looks around. The snow covers the ground and any sign of a driveway.

“Is that a road?” I say pointing to a break in the fenceline.

“Must be, yeah. They said to look for a white mailbox. I couldn’t see it in the snow.”

Peeta pulls onto the dirt road. Road may be an optimistic term. It’s more like a rutted path. We drive about a quarter mile before we come upon a house that looks straight out of a horror movie.

“Who told you about this place, Freddie Krugar?”

“Johanna.” 

“Ah!” I try to wrap my head around why our city dwelling best friend would know anything at all about tree farms, but I come up clueless until a man comes to greet us. A man so tall he dwarfs my husband with bulging biceps covered in a flannel shirt and sporting a heavy, black beard. He’s drop dead gorgeous under all that hair and flannel. He looks like a catalog come to life, the kind of catalog where they have men pretending to be rugged as they walk around without shirts and wearing $250 jeans. 

Peeta pops out of the car and greets him with a firm handshake and a laugh. As I join them, Peeta introduces me with a possessive arm around my waist.

“Katniss, this is Johanna’s friend, Blight. This is his farm.”

I roll my tongue back in my mouth long enough to exchange pleasantries. 

“Well, it’s getting late in the day. It will be dark around 4:30 today with all the clouds so you only have a few hours. Did you guys bring any equipment?”

“I have a hatchet and a saw.” 

“Let me get you a flashlight. In case you need it on your way back.”

“Did you bring any rope?”

“Yeah, we have some.” Blight nods. Convinced we are adequately prepared, he points us in the right direction.

“Ok, trees the size you want are about a mile up that road. The trees get bigger the further in you go. You can only drive to the bridge about half way there. It gets too muddy after that. If you get stuck, we’re not digging you out until spring. Stick close to the paths so you don’t get lost when you’re on foot.”

“Got it.”

“Just take anything you like. Leave my flashlight on the porch when you’re done. I’m heading into town, If I don’t see the flashlight, I’ll know you’re stuck or lost and come looking. There’s an extra rescue fee.” He says with a slightly maniacal laugh. Or maybe it just sounded maniacal because he’s freaking me the hell out. 

Peeta adjusts some settings on the car and we’re off down an even worse road than we came in on.

“Here we go!” My ever cheerful idiot says as we take off.

After being jarred out of my seat the tenth time, I ask. “It doesn’t bother you in the least that the guy we are buying a tree from is named Blight?”

Peeta laughs. “It is an unfortunate name isn’t it? But Johanna says he knows his stuff.”

“I think the only stuff Johanna knows about is in his pants.”

When we come to the bridge Peeta hops out of the car like a kid hyped up on sugar cookies. But when he slips a hatchet into his belt loop, I gotta say, I’m a bit turned on. Blight the lumberjack may be ruggedly handsome but he’s got nothing on my husband. No one wears a down jacket better than Peeta. They accentuate his gorgeous shoulders and his tiny hips. My only complaint is that the jacket covers his ass. I love his ass in jeans. Wait a minute, those jeans.

“Peeta, where did you get those jeans?”

“They’re old. I found them when we moved in, I figured if they got muddy I’d just throw them away.”

“‘Oh, I know those jeans. Aren’t they from high school?”

“Maybe.” 

No maybe about it. I remember those Levi Silvertabs all too well. They’re the jeans that convinced me to give him my virginity in the back of his dad’s bakery truck. He looked so damn good in them then, and now they’re a bit tighter but just as good.

“I like the look you’re giving me, Wife, but we only have so much daylight.” He says giving me a kiss that makes me want to throw him in the back of the car and peel those jeans off again. This time with my teeth.

Heading off in the right direction it’s actually pleasant. Peeta asks me to carry a backpack with a thermos of hot chocolate. He has the hatchet and saw. I’m dressed in a down coat that reaches past my knees and I’m wearing warm waterproof boots that come nearly to the end of my coat. No part of me is cold. It is beautiful out here. The path is narrow and the pine trees radiate in neat rows in each direction. The sun has even come out. Peeta reaches for my hand as we head deeper into the trees. I love this man. I love how he makes the simplest things into events. I don’t deserve him.

When we are barely out of sight of the car I say, “These trees are big enough, let’s start looking here.” 

“Nope, not even close. These aren’t even 8 feet. We need something at least 12. Why don’t we stop a minute? There’s hot chocolate in the backpack.”

He doesn’t have to ask me twice. We share a mugfull of the delicious treat and continue our quest. The wind has begun to pick up and I’m not so cozy warm anymore but we trudge along. Peeta loves adventure. I love adventure. I’m always up for a hike in the woods. It’s my favorite thing to do. I’m just not used to doing it in 20 degree weather, wearing my weight in warm weather gear. Finally, he steps off the path to a row of trees. 

“Ok, I’m over 6 feet tall. Stand back there and tell me if these trees look twice my height.”

I step back to gauge the height and I’ll admit, I’m prepared to lie. I will tell him we’ve discovered the 12 footers even if we haven’t. I luckily don’t have to because these are big trees. Peeta takes off down one of the rows judging each tree as we go. If a tree has the right shape, it has an unfortunate bald spot. If it’s full enough, it’s shaped oddly.

“Peeta, what time is it? It’s getting darker.”

“It’s only 2:00, it must be clouds. As long as we’re headed back to the car by 4:00 we should be OK. We’ve only been walking 20 minutes.” Peeta sees a contender for tree of the year in the next row. Nope - split trunk. We continue on. 

“There it is!” He exclaims and I’ll be damned, it is perfect. “What do you think?” 

“That’s it,” I agree “How about some hot chocolate to celebrate? We’ll cut it down and be back in plenty of time.”

After sharing another mug. Peeta pulls the hatchet out of his belt loop. He stands for a moment, assessing the tree. “OK, I googled how to do this. You cut a notch in the side where you want the tree to fall. Then you cut from the other side until you reach the notch and it should just fall. He studies the surroundings and squats down, ax in hand… 

::RIP::

“Peeta did your jeans just rip?” 

“Yup, I think so.” Two solid whacks on the tree and another 

::Rip:: 

I can’t help but giggle. “I think the “Get Lucky” jeans have seen their last day.”

“Get Lucky jeans?” Then I swear, the man reads my mind. He stands up to grab the saw. “Oh yeah, I remember now. Knew there was a reason I kept these. They served us well. We should give them a proper burial when we get home.” He comes over to give me a kiss and I can’t help but slip my hand into the hole at the seam. My other hand finds its way under his sweater. “Sweetheart, we need to get back to the car for this.” 

“For what?” I say innocently as I give his butt a squeeze.

“Let’s get this tree down and we can head home.” Sounds good to me. 

Peeta is getting into position, laying flat on his stomach reaching under the tree. Gotta say it’s a pretty nice view of the jeans. “Don’t stand there, stand to my left, just in case.” I step over his body and I see it. A big honking bald spot on the opposite side of the tree. I’m so tempted to just let him continue. There’s a warm car waiting for us and hopefully some hot making out, but I know how much this means to him.

“Peeta wait! You missed this.” He rolls out from under the tree to see where I’m pointing.

“Son of a … We just killed this tree for nothing.”

“It’ll be fine, you barely nicked it. We need to keep looking.”

Daylight is ticking away now and we are heading up another line of trees when we see it. It’s as if the clouds have parted and with the last rays of sunshine, it is lit with an ethereal glow. Peeta and I look at each other and he smiles.

“Whatcha waiting for lumberjack? Chop that baby down and let’s go!” I swear, he skips to the tree. Bending down, another rip sounds and I see a flash of red. “Peeta, what do you have on under those jeans?”

“Boxers.”

“Are those red Christmas boxers?” I approach him and reach into the rip to pull out a little of the fabric. It is bright red, with little reindeers. 

“I was going to surprise you with them later.” See what I mean about making everything an event?

“Cut down that tree and I’ll show you how much I appreciate them and you.”

Peeta lays in the snow and this time everything goes smoothly. The tree falls exactly where we expected it to fall.

“OK, grab a side and let’s get out of here.” We line up on either side of the stump and we pull in opposite directions.

“It’s this way.” He says. I disagree.

“No, I know it’s this way,” He insists.

“How do you know, Peeta? Do you have some superior male sense of direction?”

“No. Our footsteps in the snow.” OK, now I feel stupid.

We backtrack our path. It’s tough to walk pulling the heavy tree. The wind has begun to blow again, drifting the snow on the ground. Our footsteps are disappearing but we know to keep heading in one direction. When we reach the dirt road, our tracks are completely gone.

“I think it’s this way.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, but I have an idea.” Peeta drops his side of the tree, takes off his gloves and begins to rummage in the pockets of his destroyed jeans. He pulls out the key fob to the Range Rover. He holds it above his head and hits the button. Maybe the cold air carries the signal but somehow we hear the horn and we head off in that direction.

The tree gets a little heavier the closer we get to the car. Even Peeta seems to be struggling but when it comes into view, we pick up with the pace with the thought of heat.

“Almost there,” Peeta says.

Whoo Hoo! My ass is warming just thinking about it. When we get to the car we drop the tree with a sigh. My gloves are ruined with the sap of the tree. They stick together when I put them together. “You owe me new gloves.” I say holding up my hands.

“Anything for you.” Peeta says with a kiss to my lips.

“Ok, what now?” 

“Now we tie this baby to the roof so we can get home and I can show you my reindeer underwear.”

“I thought you already did.” 

“Yes, but you haven’t seen the reindeer dance.”

“Hurry up! That, I’ve got to see!”

Peeta reaches into the tree and with one big grunt hefts it onto the roof of his car. He hesitates with the ropes. I’m not entirely sure he knows what to do.

“You’ve got a nice rack Mellark, use it!” I tease.

“Yeah, yeah.” He answers and we tie it down. “Do you think that’s enough?” He steps off the running board and there is another rip.

“I think so.” I say. “ It’s a tree, it’s not going anywhere.”

“Ok, let’s go!” 

Enough of this Christmas cheer, I need warmth. As I slide into my warm leather seat, I sigh. Peeta joins me and leans over for a kiss that does more to warm me than any heater could. Our sweet kiss escalates up quickly, as they usually do. He kisses down my neck and maybe I’m not in such a hurry to get home. Peeta’s hands move under my coat and start to pull my sweater up. 

“Mmmm,” I moan and then “Aiyeee!”

“What! What? Are you OK?”

“Your hands are cold!”

“Yeah, maybe we should just head home. I want to get this tree in the stand tonight.”

I agree. I liked where it was going but he’s right. It’s getting late. We nearly get stuck when we try to turn around. It takes a few tries but Peeta yells “Yee Haw!” when we break free. It’s worth the entire trip just to see the smile on his face. Despite everything, he’s still having a good time. That’s my man.

We meet Blight again as we are driving down the dirt road and it’s a good thing we do.

“You two made it out!” He calls. “Nice tree, but if you want it to have any branches on it when you get home, you might want to turn it around. The trunk should be in the front otherwise the wind will strip it bare by the time you get home.”

He jumps out of his car and helps Peeta turn the tree around and retie it to the luggage rack. At last we are on the road home!

When we get back to the highway, I can finally relax. The overhead lights falling over the hood of the car as we speed through the dark are mesmerizing. I am warm and happy and I get up the courage to confess.

“I know why you’re doing this.”

“Hmmm,” he says without taking his eyes off the road.

“Why you’re packing so much Merry into this Holiday,” I accuse.

“I’m always like this.”

“I know, but this year it seems you are in overdrive.”

“It’s our first year in our new house.”

“And...my first Christmas without Prim. It’s ok, Peeta. I know she can’t be here. She’s off being a doctor. She’s doing what she’s always wanted to do. I knew it would be unlikely she’d be home for all the holidays when she started her residency.”

Peeta reaches to hold my hand.

“You don’t have to schedule every minute with Holiday cheer.”

“So, I should cancel the eggnog tasting?”

“Yes, please. ” I say with a bleh. “All I need is to spend time with you. I don’t care what we do.”

He agrees with a gentle squeeze.

“How about we pick up dinner on the way so we don’t have to cook? Thai?” I suggest.

“One condition, you have to go in to pick it up”

“What? You don’t think they’ll appreciate the peekaboo jeans you have on?” We laugh together and settle back to the quiet of the highway sounds. Peeta turns up the Christmas station on the radio and I sing along. I know he likes it when I sing and he deserves it.

Peeta must be distracted because he almost misses our exit. He signals and changes lanes too quickly hitting the exit curve a bit too fast. We hear and feel a soft thump on the driver’s side of the car. We both yell out when we look out the side window and only see a wall of evergreen.

“Pull over before it falls!” I yell.

“I can’t, I can’t see where I’m going.”

“Well, pull over to my side!” He does and we come to a stop on the small shoulder of the exit. We both catch our breath before we move. Peeta tries to open his door but it’s not budging. There’s a 12 foot fraser fir blocking the door. Before I can move, Peeta has straddled the center console and is crawling over me to open my door.

“Peeta! Let me get out first.”

“You stay warm until I need help,” he says with a kiss to my nose. When he opens the door, I’m hit with a cold blast of air.

“Good idea.” I watch as he tries to make his way around the car to the driver’s side. The previously empty highway seems to have suddenly become busy as I see three cars approaching. Peeta waits for them to go by before getting in position at the side of the car. I hear him grunt and lift the heavy tree back onto the roof on his own. I gotta admit, I’m disappointed I didn’t get a clearer view. I love it when he lifts things. It turns me on.

Now able to see out the driver’s side of the car, I look down to notice Peeta’s coat on his seat. I think my poor Peeta, he must be so cold.

Two more cars pass by and honk their horns.

“Oh, Shit!” My poor cold husband is outside with no coat and wearing what amounts to assless chaps. I grab his coat, hat and gloves and come out to help. Another car passes and honks as they get a flash of red reindeer underwear when he bends over to untangle the rope that has been trailing behind us.

I hand him his coat and he thanks me. “Can I help?” 

“Yeah, go to the other side and when I throw you the rope, wrap it around the rack and send it back.” We basically sew the tree to the luggage rack. It is going nowhere this time.

Thai food forgotten, we drive slowly the rest of the way home. Cars are passing us and flashing their lights. I want to flip them all off but Peeta remains calm. Finally, we pull into our driveway and Peeta parks close to the front door. 

“Maybe we should go to the back?” I ask.

“If we go in the back we will have to drag it through half the house to get to the spot in the living room. If we go through the front, it’s right there.”

I’m eyeing the front door and by this time, I’m quite aware of what a monster tree we’ve brought home and there is no way it’s getting through that door. But, I am saying nothing. The worst that can happen is we drag it to the back porch.

Peeta is grumbling on the other side of the car. Every so often I hear a “Shit” or “Fuck.” He doesn’t often swear but when he does it makes me laugh. I’m happy to be reminded that he is a human like the rest of us.

“What’s wrong now?”

“I can’t .. get.. The.. knots undone. Ropes.. are stiff.” He is now standing on the running board pulling on the ropes with his full body weight and they are not moving.

“What happened to your pants, Breadboy?” Of all the times for my Uncle Haymitch to walk by, he had to walk by now. Peeta groans. “Get attacked by a wild animal?” Haymitch laughs at his own joke. He’s probably drunk. He’s been drinking a lot lately and doesn’t like to stay home alone so he walks down to the bar on the corner every night. We must be lucky enough to be catching him on the way back. 

Peeta is in no mood to be teased. “Make yourself useful old man and come over here and help.”

“Can’t. Been drinkin’. Might get someone hurt.”

“Can I at least borrow your knife? I know you carry it with you all the time.”

“Only if you tell me what happened to your pants.”

“You know how your niece is in the woods. She’s an animal. I didn’t get them off in time so, she tried to rip them off me.” And just like that Peeta is Peeta again as the two of them have a laugh at my expense. He takes the knife and cuts a couple ropes, freeing the tree which rolls off the roof with a plop.

“Get a big enough tree?” Haymitch snarks.

“Grab a hold, old man. Help me bring it in the house.” 

To my surprise Haymitch does and he starts to pull it toward the back of the house as Peeta heads to the front door. “You’re not getting it through that door,” Haymitch says.

Peeta relents and we all head to the back doors.

“Katniss, could you go in and clear a path in the house, please?” I’ve never been so happy to go inside. My toes tingle when the warmth hits them. After I finish my assigned task, I make a quick call to the pizzeria. We’re going to want food at some point tonight. I watch Peeta and Haymitch through the window. Haymitch is motioning and Peeta nodding. Haymitch disappears down the driveway as I come out to receive my next assignment. 

“He suggested we put the stand on out here and I agree.” 

“What can I do?” 

“Nothing. Just keep me company.” I do just that as Peeta struggles with the stand. “Ready?”

We swing open the french doors on the porch and squeeze the tree through the opening. 

 

“He was right, no way this would have made it through the front.” We make it through the kitchen almost untouched. I grab Peeta’s mixmaster before it gets knocked on the floor. The dining room is next and the tree skims the table. Finally we make it to the living room and the spot Peeta had picked out for the tree. It’s immediately clear, we are in trouble. 

Once inside the house, it’s like the tree grew. It’s now a behemoth taking up the entire room. It’s a good three feet too tall, and so wide that even if we could put it up, half of it would be in the fireplace. Peeta looks at me and shrugs. I look at Peeta with an eyebrow raised.

“Let’s turn it around. Bring it outside, I’ll chop a couple feet and branches off the bottom.” Now we have to walk the tree around the living room and back out onto the porch. This time we lose a couple candles, picture frames and a hideous lamp his mother gave us along the way. (no big loss there.) We stop with half the tree hanging out the door. Peeta heads to the car and returns with the saw. He does some measuring. He bends over, red reindeer underwear flashing the neighbors and starts sawing away. There’s a pile of pine boughs growing on the porch. I’m already planning to make wreaths. Many wreaths. 

Peeta puts the stand back on. We have to pull the tree all the way out to turn around again. This time we clear the door easily. The path to the living room has already been wiped clean with the last two trips. The tree goes up easily, just skimming the ceiling. 

“Good job! It’s perfect now.” I tell him and he’s beaming with pride. The doorbell rings. “And for that, you get a reward! I ordered pizza when you and Haymitch were talking.”

“You are the perfect woman Katniss Mellark!” Peeta disappears into the kitchen while I pay the delivery boy. He comes back in the room having shed the mutilated jeans and wearing only his white sweater and the red reindeer boxers. He’s also carrying two beers.

“You’re pretty perfect yourself there, Peeta Mellark. But I believe you mentioned something about a dance.” 

He smirks, raises an eyebrow as he pops one knee out. “I did, didn’t I?” He then pops the other knee out and begins what can only be described as a prance as he turns in a circle and wiggles his glorious ass at me.

When he comes back around, he stops mid prance. “Is the tree crooked?”

“Maybe a little. We can fix it after pizza.” It is the best pizza ever. Peeta and I eat until we can’t move. Peeta sits back into the corner of the sofa and I settle between his legs leaning back against his chest. I am teasing my fingers along the hair of his bare legs. Peeta is enjoying the last of his second beer. 

“It’s definitely crooked.”

“We’ll fix it in the morning.” I say and snuggle into his crotch. This is where I belong, wrapped in my husband’s arms. My husband who has never wavered in his love for me. My husband who has been my partner in crime and adventure for 13 years. I’m ready for anything with him at my side. I made a decision a few months ago but I’ve been afraid to tell him because it would make it real. Maybe now it’s time. 

“Today was kinda a mess wasn’t it?” He admits.

“It was an adventure, that’s for sure. But I had fun.”

“Yeah?” I feel a sweet kiss on my head.

“Uh huh.” I take a deep breath. “But maybe next year we can do it the easy way?”

“Are you losing your sense of adventure, Wife?”

“Never, I just think that next year, things might be too complicated for this type of adventure.”

Peeta freezes behind me. He’s confused. I’m not being clear. “What are you saying, Katniss?”

“I’m saying, next year it might be hard to do the whole cut down your own tree thing. If we’re lucky, there may be a new little Mellark with us. Or maybe I’ll still be pregnant.“

“Real? You’re ready?” He’s breathless behind me. I turn to look into his eyes. There are tears brimming. 

“Real, Peeta. Let’s have a baby.”

“Now?”

“Now.” I slide up and kiss my wonderful, all out crazy, all things Christmas tradition loving freak of a husband. “Merry Christmas, Peeta!”

“Merry Christmas.” He says smiling wide before pulling me back to him to kiss again. We are lost in each other and barely notice when the tree falls gently to the ground. 

“The tree fell.”

“Hmmm,” Peeta hums against my neck. “We’ll fix it tomorrow.”


End file.
